


Wedding Jitters

by MissAnonWrites



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Feels, Love, One Shot, loooong one shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 04:32:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1212796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAnonWrites/pseuds/MissAnonWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was inspired by Mr Rochester from Jane Eyre....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wedding Jitters

"I AM proud of you, and I DO want you to be a success, but I can’t do this anymore!" Emily screams, clutching her hair in frustration.

Tom just stands there, tall and gangly, his blond curls bobbing as he shakes his head. “Well what am I supposed to do? I love you, Emily, and I want you.” He takes a step closer to her.”I want you.”

Tom’s career was taking off, and the young couple could not find a way through the maze of how to handle it. They’d muddled badly through the past six months, where Tom had been globe-trotting for a couple of films. He had booked another job overseas, and wanted her to come out there with him. For three months.

Things had been great until recently. Before the bigger film roles had come in, Tom had been working part-time in a book store whilst auditioning and taking on small London-based roles, while Emily had finished uni and had taken a job working for Vauxhall City Farm, spending the rest of her time either with Tom, or enjoying everything London had to offer. Their studio apartment was tiny, yet full of love.

And right now, full of something coming apart at the seams.

"I’m not just gonna follow you everywhere like a puppy! I have my own dreams! And I can’t stay here to wait around for you." Emily searches Tom’s face for some kind of answer, for him to offer some kind of way to make this work.

"It’s just three months," Tom snaps, wondering if she really loves him at all.

"And then what? Another three, then another three? I won’t be able to work. Then there’s stage tours, press junkets…? "

"You don’t know that!"

"I know how good an actor you are, Tom." Emily rubs her eyes with her fingertips, unwittingly smudging her make up.

Tom holds his hand out to her. “Baby, please…?”

It’s hard to resist him. But she’s so worked up.

"N..no, I don’t think I can do this. I love you but I deserve better. I deserve a man who’ll be there for me each night, while I pursue my own life and dreams. I can’t drop everything for you."

"So that’s it." Tom’s lips form a grim line. "You’re just going to throw away our love?"

She glares at him. “You’re forcing me to choose to either give up on my life to follow you around, or to walk away now and build something of my own? You’re forcing me to choose between my life versus making you the centre of the universe.” She notices her voice rising to a shout.

She’s so mad at him for making her choose. Why couldn’t he find an alternative that worked for both of them? Why couldn’t he reassure her that he’d find a way for them to make it work? Why did it have to be his way or the high way?

"Are you going to let me walk out of here, then?" She folds her arms, praying he will do something to stop her, to show her how much she means to him.

"It looks like you don’t want to be with me, so don’t let me stop you."

___________

_Ten years later_

Emily watches TV with her boyfriend, Paul. Paul is an accountant. They live in a nice suburb of London. She has a man who is constant for her, who loves her, who is solid and reliable. Her eyes aimless drift to a copy of the Metro on the coffee table. She starts browsing one-handedly while her boyfriend holds her other hand, still watching the telly. She feels sick in the pit of her stomach when her eyes see the headline - ‘Tom Hiddleston injured during stunt accident’. An explosion went wrong, and he was thrown against the ground injuring his leg and ribs during the fall. He suffered burns and temporary blindness. Emily’s instinct is to see him, however it’s been ten years since she saw him last…

"Everything alright, love?’ Paul asks, sensing her stillness. He peers over to look at the newspaper pages, trying to spot the source of her quiet. "Oh, yeah, terrible news isn’t it. Can’t believe they’re putting rail prices up again,"

She nods and quickly turns the page, trying not to imagine the state Tom must be in.

_______________________

She had managed to be strict with herself and not check in on how Tom was doing. She assumed he must be alive and well as there had been no scary news on TV or on the front pages. She contented herself with that, and re-focused on her current relationship.

Although deep inside she felt guilty and cold for not allowing herself to think about Tom.

Later that year over a candlelit pasta her boyfriend proposed, and she said yes. This was all she wanted, wasn’t it? A stable man, a stable life, knowing someone would always be there for her.

Both families were overjoyed and excited by the news. Her mother in particular was finding it a brilliant excuse to have a go at playing Production Manager. This was to be Done Properly, and with a year to go before the happy day, she had plenty of time to assemble the best seating plan, the best flower arrangements, and the best venue.

_________________________________

_< kiss> Can you keep a secret?_

Yes! yes of course

_< kiss> I’m going to marry you_

<giggle> Tom…

_< kiss> One night I’m going to kidnap you in my car, drive you to the beach, and have someone marry us under the stars_

…..

You’re serious, aren’t you?

_Oh yes, love. One day, if you’ll have me_

________

She wakes up with her heart pounding at the memory. Why oh why was wedding stuff bringing up images of Tom before her eyes every time she lay her head on the pillow?

She needed a break. She needed to get away from dress fittings and cake tastings and her mother. She needed to get away from London. She needed to be distracted.

Her budget was shot - everything was going towards the wedding - so no big flights to exotic places for her.

In the morning she’d come up with a plan. Somewhere in the UK. Somewhere quiet and rustic.

She turned on her side, looking at her fiancee’s back in the dark of the bedroom. He won’t miss me too much, will he?

____________

The train ride was exhilarating. She could almost physically feel London draining away from her as the train thundered past the suburbs, out towards leafier towns, then further still out to the countryside.

She has the perfect excuse, and the perfect freebie place to stay. Her Aunt Mabel, a widow now in her seventies, lived with her cat in a small village in Dorset. She would unlikely be able to make the wedding (she HATED traveling long journeys) and so what better excuse to come by for a pre-wedding visit?

Chintz. Chintz everywhere. Doilies and pastel porcelain figurines. Mortimer the beige moulting cat sat quietly on the floor, his little paws tucked under his podgy belly.

Aunt Mabel was, of course, glad to see her. Emily had the glow of someone in love about her, although she had put on a little weight, although that’s what happens when you live with a man isn’t it…

Small talk finished, tea drank, and angel cake eaten, Aunt Mabel closed the discussion by settling back into her easy chair and reading her Mills and Boon book. Emily was glad. Although her Aunt wasn’t a great conversationalist, she would give her freedom to spend time to herself, and would not find it rude if Emily decided to gallivant off for a bit.

And so, Emily decided to potter around the village before supper. Despite wearing jeans, her Hunter wellies and a cagoule, she felt a bit conspicuous. The occasional person would smile at her or say “afternoon”. She noticed how much more friendly people were out here. And, often older.

The village itself was merely a collection of houses and three shops. She pottered around the general store, which sold groceries, sun hats, Dorset toffee and fishing nets amongst other things. She then carried on down the street towards the open fields, hopping over a wooden stile to walk through the grass.

Looking up at the expansive sky, she felt a sense of relief. Here, she had no expectations on her. There was no one to answer to, not really. Aunt Mabel may fuss a little over her but she would be left to her own devices. The wedding could take a back seat. No one else but her Aunt knew her here. No one could make demands of her time or mental energy.

Paul had taken the news of her weekend trip well. She thought of him, now at work, with an empty weekend before him. He had told her he would spend it watching football and ordering take away’s. He had seemed content enough. Emily wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure her that he didn’t mind she was taking a break without him, or if he really didn’t care.

The odd thing was, Emily really didn’t mind that Paul wasn’t here with her. Not at all.

She happily drew in the crisp country air, and smiled to herself.

_______________________

The home-cooked shepherds pie and apple crumble helped Emily sleep like a log. Custard always had some kind of sleep-inducing effect on her.

She slept soundly, and slowly stirred herself awake, grateful to come around naturally, rather than by the shrill beeps of an alarm clock, or Paul inadvertently disturbing her as he got up before her. She had nowhere she had to be, no one to see, no thoughts to think. It was bliss.

The people of Dorset know how to do breakfast Emily thought as she surveyed the spread laid out before her. She almost felt guilty that Aunt Mabel had spent time and effort preparing all of this for her, yet she seemed to be enjoying fussing over her niece, and Emily could tell she enjoyed spending time cooking. Scrambled eggs, baked beans, hash browns, sausages, mushrooms, toast… Emily would need to lie down to recover after this.

And the best thing was, she knew she could!

_________________________

"Emily dear, could you give me a hand?"

Emily sat up on the guest bed to see her Aunt fumbling with a large package in her hands, while also trying to hold her walking stick. Emily rushed over to her.

"Of course, Aunt… did this come for you?" She takes the brown-paper wrapped parcel and looks it over. There’s no name or address on it.

"Oh no, no dear I want you to deliver it. He only lives a short walk away, you’ll find it easily."

Emily frowns. “What is it, may I ask?”

"One of those large magnifying glasses. I couldn’t make head nor tail out of it, I’ll stick with my spectacles. He let me borrow it. I thought you might like to return it for me, give you something to do. I know how you city types get bored with the countryside after a while."

"Oh Aunt," Emily smiles softly, "not at all. I’m loving the peace here."

Aunt Mabel starts to turn and head down the hallway. “It’s this house on the edge of the field. Looks like an old chapel. You can’t miss it.”

__________________

Having a little mission to carry out had put Emily back in city-mode, and with the package tucked under her arm, she purposefully strode towards the field. She vaguely remembered seeing a building in the distance from her jaunt yesterday, and wondered if it was the place her Aunt was talking about.

She stumbled across the fields, over small mole hills and wild moss patches, and as she began to get closer to the building, she could in fact see that yes, it was an old chapel, with dirtied limestone walls. Two trees stood proudly in front of it, casting shade over the front of the building.

She began to wonder what who she was about to meet. Perhaps another older person, judging by the magnifying glass.

Approaching the building she could hear the low woof of a dog barking, and soon an old black and grey mongrel came trotting out to investigate. Emily slowed her pace, trying to discern whether the dog was being territorial, or friendly.

The dog continued to bark, then slowed to a walk, sniffing the air. He then pawed at her jean-covered calf, and bumped his head against her knee.

"You adorable thing," Emily cooed quietly, and pet the fur on his forehead. The bristles were thick and smooth.

She could make out the sound of a man’s voice, although the words were undescernable. She repositioned the package under her arm, and began to walk towards the chapel. The dog walked happily alongside her, his brown eyes looking up to her now and then.

"Captain, where are you?"

A tall man with a walking stick emerged between the two large trees. He was wearing black, and his long brown hair fanned down across his face.  She couldn’t be sure of his age, though from his slim build and voice he didn’t seem old.

The dog cast an eye at Emily, then trotted over to his owner.

"Hi there," Emily called out, waving lightly.

The man stood stock still. Emily was worried she’d scared him.

"Who’s there?" The man reached his free hand out.

"It’s.. I.. I’m Emily, I’m Aunt Mabel’s neice, I’ve got a package for you." Emily took a step closer, offering the parcel to him.

"Please go," he said curtly.

"Don’t you want it?"

He kept his head down. “Tell your Aunt she can keep it. It is of no use to me.” He presses his walking stick down with a thud into the ground. The motion draws Emily’s attention and she looks at his hand on the handle. His long, elegant fingers are covered in dark purple marks. Despite the discoloration, there’s something familiar about his hand…

"Come on, Captain," he said quietly to his dog.

Emily stood looking stunned as she watched him walk to his home.

__________________

Emily’s heart raced as she made her way back to Aunt Mabel’s. Her mind was whirring with thoughts. Those beautiful fingers were uncannily like Toms. She would recognise them anywhere. And as soon as that thought had taken root in her brain, other thoughts began to filter in. His voice - whilst defensive - also had a similar tone to Tom’s. He was about the same build.

But what was she thinking - this didn’t make any sense.

After finding out about Tom’s on-set accident, she had assumed he would have received the best medical attention and had gone back to being a successful movie star.

It was just her mind playing tricks on her.

She had hoped her countryside visit would have got some of this out of her system, but apparently Tom could haunt her anywhere.

_____________________

Aunt Mabel was in the garden listening to Radio 4 while Mortimer dozed on her lap. Emily plonked herself on the sun lounger opposite.

"He didn’t want it," she waves the package, and sets it on the patio floor by her side.

"Well heaven knows what I’m to do with it. Oh well, I suppose he doesn’t have any use for it, poor chap."

"Hmm?"

"He’s blind, of course."

_Of course_. Why hadn’t she realised?

"That’s… that’s sad." Emily blurts.

"Keeps himself to himself, that one."

Emily starts playing with the cuff of her jumper.

"I think it’s those terrible scars he has. Would you like some tea?"

_________________________

Emily fidgeted on the sun lounger. She couldn’t stop pondering about the man she had met. Perhaps the quiet life of the countryside was getting to her, and her mind was trying to find things to do. She needed to stop pondering.

She knew Aunt Mabel had a bike somewhere, and dug about past gardening paraphernalia to pull out the somewhat rusty push bike.

Armed with some basic instructions on how to get to the next village from her Aunt (“just follow the main road til you get there”), Emily enjoyed the ride. The road was pretty empty, and she could ride as fast as she wanted. She felt about twelve years old again, and grinned as the wind flowed through her hair.

The village was a little bigger than her Aunt’s. It had a pub, a post office, a chemist’s, a bank, a hotel and restaurant, and Emily was a little glad to be somewhere with a bit more buzz. Emphasis on the word ‘bit’.

She bought an ice cream from the newsagents, and sat on a small wooden bench outside, happy to watch the villagers come and go. Many had dogs, and many were pensioners. Flower baskets hung from the lampposts. She felt serene.

Soon, the itch to cycle returned, so she got up and began wheeling the bike along the pavement, planning to start cycling again once away from the main ‘high street’, when a dog run close to the front wheel and she quickly pulled the bike back, worried she may have hurt it.

"I’m so sorry," she mumbled, and realised the dog was Captain. She quickly looked up to see his owner.

The same cheekbones, the same jaw line, and the same blue eyes - although cloudy, still expressive. Dark patches and scars covered the left side of his face, yet it was Tom.

"I…," Emily began, and could only watch as he swiftly walked away, head bowed, his stick clicking against the pavement, Captain at his heels.

Her heart clenched, and all she wanted to do was cycle as fast as she could away.

______________

The clear sky may as well have been full of rain clouds. Emily’s eyes were hazy, filled with tears, as she rode back to her Aunt’s. This version of Tom haunted her. He was wearing black again, as if in mourning, and kept his head down, as if hiding from the world. Some part of her wanted to hold him and kiss him, as if that would reignite her old Tom.

She was finding it hard to breath.

She wanted to talk to him. She wanted to know what had happened. She wanted to know if he was okay. And she knew she shouldn’t. She had a fiancee, for God’s sake!

As she reached her Aunt’s house she stopped before entering. She needed to pull herself together. She bade time by fiddling with the bike’s gears and brakes, trying to even out her breathing.

When she entered the house, Aunt Mabel was in the kitchen at the back of the house. Emily called out to greet her and tell her she was going to freshen up.

Instead, she crumbled on the guest bed and sobbed.

She cried for what she had lost when she had left Tom all those years ago, and she cried for what time had done to him.

When she closed her eyes, all she could see were Toms.

________________

"You’re quiet tonight, dear."

Emily gazed blankly at the TV screen. She was grateful that her Aunt had put Gardener’s World on so they weren’t in complete silence while they ate. Images of plants and soil and butterflies could not distract her from him.

"You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?"

Emily practically choked on her pasta. Could she read her mind?

"I can tell when a girl is missing her man. You should call Paul. I’m sure he’s thinking of you."

Emily smiles politely and nods. Maybe he is. Or maybe not.

_____________

"It’s a lovely night," Emily tries to sound casual as she hovers in the living room doorway. "I was thinking of going star gazing in the field."

Her Aunt sets her book down on the coffee table. “You go on, dear. It’s knocking on for my bedtime and I’m no good at staring up at the sky for long.”

Emily smiles. “Okay, Aunt. If I don’t see you when I get in, sleep well.”

"Take a torch."

_________________

Emily’s hands were sweaty as she crossed the field. What was she doing.

All evening she had played various reactions and scenarios in her head as to what might happen.

He might be angry to see her. She didn’t want to upset him.

He might tell her to simply go away. She might not get any answers, or anything out of him.

And how would she react? She’d done enough crying for one day, and didn’t want to sob all over him.

She started to hum tunelessly to herself. Whenever she felt scared, she would hum or sing involuntarily. It just happened. Tom had used to sing to her too, to soothe her. One night they had awoken to loud banging noises inside their building. Scared it may be burglars, Tom went to check, singing as he went. It turned out to be their heating system breaking down noisily.

She’d never heard Paul sing, she mused.

She saw the chapel ahead. She hoped Captain would be around to alert Tom to her presence. She didn’t want to scare him.

And indeed, Captain came out, barking once, softly. Emily felt a little reassured by him, and let him walk with her closer to the house.

She noticed the front door gaping open, amber light flooding out, and then his dark silhouette framed by the doorway.

"Captain?" Tom called.

"Tom, it’s me. Emily." She responded, and his silhouette stayed still. Silent.

"I’m.. I’m sorry, I just… I needed to see you."

She gets to the doorway, and watches Tom gaze stiffly ahead of him. Captain trots up to the threshold and snakes past Tom’s long legs into the house.

"Well now you’ve seen me," Tom replies drily, and begins to turn to go back inside.

"Please! Wait, I don’t want to bother you…," Emily plants a foot on the threshold, and notices Tom’s fingers gripping the door-frame tightly at his side.

"You already have bothered me."

Emily looks up and sees no humour or gentleness on his face. Just coldness. This is not the man she knew.

"I have made it quite clear that I do not want you here, please go."

"Why? What have I done wrong? Please, Tom, let me in."

He rolls his eyes and steps back. “As you wish.”

_____________________

The small chapel has been knocked through to create an open-plan living space. Emily recognises some of Tom’s belongings he and there, bringing back familiar feelings of happier times, yet right now she feels glum as she watches Tom heavily slump into an armchair, staring straight ahead of him.

"Come to pity the blind man?" He sneers.

 Emily storms over to him.

"Why do you say that? I’ve come here not to pity you, I’ve come because… I care about you."

He laughs to himself. “You have no reason to. Why are you here?”

She crouches down in front of him. His eyes flicker around her, and she would almost feel empathy for him if he wasn’t being so difficult.

Frustrated, Emily can’t help as the words tumble out of her.

"I’m here because I needed a break from my life, I needed a break from my overbearing mother who won’t shut up about my wedding and I came to gather my thoughts and I thought I’d get some peace here but instead I found you and now I feel sick."

Tom looks towards her.

"I didn’t mean to bump into you. I just did. And now I have, I… are you okay?"

"Why wouldn’t I be?" he says darkly.

"You’re… you’re not the Tom I knew…"

"DON’T," he roars, his fingers digging deeply into the arm rests of his chair. "Don’t you pity me. I don’t need anything from you. I don’t need you to care."

Emily stands up and stamps her foot. “Thomas, why are you so frustrating? I’m trying to be nice. You want me to go? You want me to not care? Fine. FINE. I’ll go. Have it your way. Again. I’ll walk out on you AGAIN. See how much I really pity you then…,”

She shrieks as Tom stands and clasps her shoulders in his large palms, as he kisses her with an open mouth to stop her words. Her fists punch his biceps, yet she can’t help but relent as his tongue coaxes hers, and fingers plunge into her hair. His scent envelopes her, and its as if her body has disappeared. All she can feel and smell and taste is him.

And it is bliss.

He pulls away, giving her one last chaste small kiss on the lips.

"What the hell, Tom?" She whispers. How can he be such a dick one minute, then suddenly kiss her like that?

She feels the pads of his fingers gently smooth over her eyelids. “Open your eyes.”

She opens her eyes, and studies his beautiful face, merely a breath away from hers.

"What do you see?"

She swallows. “You. I see you, Tom.”

"Do you not see broken eyes that cannot look into your soul? Do you not see a disfigured face that terrifies?"

She raises a hand to stroke his cheek, along the lines of scarring. It really is not so bad.

"Tom," she begins, "you are handsome…"

"Do not jest with me," he pulls away. "I should disgust you."

She slaps him, and he hangs his head.

"You know what? You do disgust me. It disgusts me to think that you would believe I would judge you in that way. I thought you knew me better than that."

She gives him one last glance, then turns to head towards the door.

Tom stays still as Captain quietly pads over to the door, watching as Emily shuts the door behind her.

__________________

Tears spill from the corner of Tom’s eyes as he lies in the dark, Captain curled up at the foot of the bed, snoring softly.

Since the accident, he had crafted a well-constructed life for himself. Here, no one had any expectations of who he should be, or what he should do.

He spent his days listening to audio books, playing instruments, cooking, and sometimes even sculpting. He got by. He was safe here. There were no busy roads to contend with, and he felt relatively independent.

Then Emily had arrived, and somehow pierced through his sham of a life.

He knew that he could do so much more. He could still act, he could still have friends, he could probably still live in London if he wanted to.

He didn’t need to live so small.

But it was easier to live small than to be brave.

It was easier to be bitter than to hope.

______________________

_Why did he kiss me?_

Emily groans as the question plays over and over in her head. She can’t sleep. She looks at the little golden clock on the bedside table.

It offers her no answer.

____________________

He kissed her because he wanted to say sorry. He kissed her because he wanted her to see through his exterior and know that he was still her Tom underneath it all. He kissed her to show her how sad he was, that he actually did need her, despite his words. He kissed her for all the years he hadn’t been with her. He kissed her to take back letting her go. He kissed her to show her he loved her.

He loved her.

Tom shifted onto his side, burying his face into the pillow.

_______________________

Emily poked at the edge of her pancake with the tip of her spoon. It would ordinarily be delicious, and yet this morning her Aunt’s cooking was almost unbearable.

"How was it last night?"

Emily almost groaned, recalling what had happened.

"Spot any constellations? Your Uncle used to be quite the stargazer."

"Oh, it was.. yeah, lovely," Emily shrugged, feigning a smile for Aunt Mabel. She had barely noticed the stars as she’d charged across the fields, feeling hurt. She hadn’t felt that deeply since… since Tom had broken up with her.

"Got any plans for your last day in the country? I know a lovely farm not too far from here, they do the best cream teas."

"I don’t think I could manage that straight after pancakes," Emily nods. "Maybe later."

_________________

She hummed along to the music on her ipod, while watching the bees float over the lavender in Aunt Mabel’s garden. The sky above was blue, and she let herself close her eyes as she settled into the sun lounger.

Tom had made it clear that he did not want to reconnect with her. That was okay. He was a jerk. She was heading back to London tonight, where her regular, logical life would be. Her mother would fuss about the wedding, out of care. Her fiancee would reliably be at her side every evening to watch TV with. She would get the tube to work and not have to worry about running into ghosts from her past.

She felt a tap on her knee, and opened her eyes. Aunt Mabel hovered over her, squinting. Emily pulled an earphone out.

"There’s someone at the door, would you mind getting it? It’ll take you half the time…"

Emily pondered if it was the postman, and didn’t know what to do when she opened the door and found Tom on the doorstep, Captain at his side. The dog looked up at her with a dopey expression, his tongue hanging out of his mouth at the side.

"Oh,Tom?" Emily frowns, and crosses her arms.

He flusters a little.

"I’m.. I’m not here to fight, promise." He raises a hand in appeasement.

"Okay…?" She leans against the door frame.

"I.. I know you don’t want to see me, and I couldn’t blame you after what I said last night."

Emily snorts.

"Please… will you go with me, to my home, to talk?"

"You have given me absolutely no good reason to," Emily snaps.

Captain frowns, his brown eyes flitting from Tom to her.

Tom swallows. “I’m… I’m so sorry.” His voice is almost inaudible, and Emily softens a little as he starts to turn away.

"Wait," she sighs. She’ll be on a train home in a few hours. She can probably bear to hear him out before she goes.

Tom wavers, his face moving to try and sense her. But she had disappeared.

After letting her Aunt know she’ll be gone for a little while, Emily returns to the doorstep, and shoves her hands in her jacket pockets. “Lead the way.”

___________

The ten minute walk down the lane and through the field was quiet. So many different things were coming up for her, as she walked next to Tom. Part of her did not know how to ‘be’ around this version of Tom. Would he snap at her again? He walked with less confidence than he used to, his head slightly bowed, weary. She knew he had changed hugely - his personality, his energy, even his soul. She almost wanted to turn and run, yet she couldn’t. She could see that he was hugely frustrated, and that it had taken him some bravery to have sought her out today.

She watched Tom fumble with the door keys, and she followed him inside. Using his stick, he walked over to the kitchen area.

"Would you like tea?" he called back to her over his shoulder.

Emily hugged her arms around herself. She wanted this to be quick.

"Um, thanks, but I can’t stay too long. I’m heading back home soon."

"Home?" he asks quietly, turning to face her. His cloudy blue eyes look for her. She almost steps towards him to touch his shoulder, to show him she’s there, but stops herself.

"Yeah, London, you know…,"

"Ah."

She rocks on her heels, hoping Tom will say something. It’s silent save for Captain’s claws scraping gently across the wooden floor nearby.

"And your fiancee," Tom smiles, looking down. "I’m sure… I’m sure he wants you home too."

Emily nods mutely.

"How long have you been together?"

She sighs. “Three and a half years. Engaged for six months.”

She notices his fingers tighten on the top of his walking stick.

"That’s… that’s good…," he swallows. "…That you’re, you’re happy."

Silence.

"Aren’t you?" Tom cocks his head a little, trying to make out any movement from her.

Emily looks away, trying not to cry. The sweeter, kinder Tom she remembers is starting to appear before her, and it hurts.

"Emily?" he whispers.

"I…um, yeah. I just, I think the pressure of the wedding has been getting to me." She clears her throat. "Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about?"

Tom leans against the kitchen counter. “I wanted to tell you that I do know you better. I know that you see me beyond this.” He waves his hand over his face. “That you could never be… disgusted. Although my behaviour last night… I am truly ugly indeed.”

She bites back saying anything, in case it stops his honesty.

"I’m scared," he swallows.

She hesitates to go to him, although her arms are itching to wrap around him.

"I don’t like being like this," he tucks a piece of hair behind his ear as he mumbles.

"What happened? After the accident, I mean. Why did you move here?"

______________________

Tom didn’t have another chair for her, so they sat on the edge of his bed as he filled in all the gaps of the past years.

He told her of how he had given up, and had wanted to get away from the demands of his career. There had been many champions of his who wanted to help him ease back into acting despite his physical changes, yet he had simply had enough. Deep down, he didn’t believe anyone would want to hire an actor who’d need hours in make-up to cover his scars, or assistance with navigating sets.

His temporary blindness had turned into something more permanent.

Whilst he had had support professionally, and from his family as best they could, he yearned to have someone at his side who could remind him that despite what had happened to him, he was still Tom.

He didn’t say it out loud, but he had yearned for Emily in particular.

And the yearning had turned into frustration, and a deeper feeling of loneliness. He sold his London flat and fled.

As he spoke, Emily felt a pang of guilt for her previous assumptions. All these years, she had imagined him living a far better life than she.

"And… was there ever any… anyone else?" She hoped he would say that there had been a soul mate, or dalliances, or sex buddies. If he had been living alone here, then she hoped before the accident that he had had some fun.

"No," he smiles, and stretches his leg out in front of him. "You know me."

She raises an eyebrow.

"Only ever you."

She gazes mutely at her palms resting in her lap.

"I’m sorry I slapped you."

His long fingers gingerly stroke across her thigh, looking for her hand. Their fingers interlink.

"I deserved it," he mumbles. "I’m sorry for treating you so abominably. You were right. It wasn’t me."

Emily sighs.

"I want to be me again."

She turns to look at him. His large glassy blue eyes gaze numbly down at the floor in front of him, worry lines etched into his forehead.

She wraps an arm around his shoulders.

"You are you, already, in there, somewhere. Buried under some crap."

He chuckles.

"Just let him come out."

"I’ll try," he whispers, and closes his eyes.

"Tom?"

"Mmm?"

"Why did you kiss me?"

"Because I love you."

Her heart beat loudly in her chest, and her breath began to quicken.

"Still." He exhales loudly, his eyes still closed.

"I can’t stop."

"Tom…,"

"I’m sorry," he opens his eyes, and takes back his hand from hers.

"Wait," she squeezes his shoulder, making sure he doesn’t turn away from her. "Stop doing this. Last night you kissed me, then you pulled away. Now you tell me you love me, and you’re pulling away. Don’t I get a chance to respond?"

He looks down. “Sorry.”

"And stop apologising," she groans, before kissing him gently on the lips. She curls her fingers through his hair, eliciting a deep moan from him.

"I’m so sorry," he breathes into her mouth.

"Stop it," she whispers back.

"For everything."

"Ssh, Tom." <kiss>

"I should never have let you go."

She growls, not wanting to think back to their break-up.

"I’m so sorry."

She tastes his salty tears as they trickle down his face, onto her lips, and soon he is burying his face in the crook of her neck, sobbing as he comes undone.

________________________

She looks over to the suited man opposite her in the half-empty train carriage, reading the Evening Standard. It’s late evening, and all is as it should be in London.

A few late night revelers, billboards advertising shows and books and movies, buskers, tourists… So much life and colour.

And yet Emily feels emotionally numb.

She left her heart in Dorset.

________________________

"Why did you let me go?" she couldn’t help but ask, as his sobs had subsided. "I didn’t want to, not really."

He sighs deeply, and hangs his head.

"I didn’t think I could give you everything you needed. You were right. You needed a life of your own, and I selfishly was getting in the way."

"We might have been able to make it work, somehow…"

"I don’t know," Tom scratches the side of his face. "I was too young to know what the word ‘compromise’ means."

Emily pokes his ribs. “Stubborn git.”

He chuckles. “I was, wasn’t I.” He turns his face towards her, blue eyes hazy as his hands rise to feel her face. “You were in my heart the whole time. I carried you with me through the years.”

He swallows, stroking her eyebrow with his fingertips softly. “You kept me company on long days and sleepless nights. I couldn’t let you go.”

 _______________________

She found Paul splayed out on the sofa, a KFC bucket on the coffee table, cricket highlights on the telly.

"Hello, gorgeous," he smiles, and motions for her to lie with him.

He pecks her on the top of her head and rubs her arm, then absent-mindedly asks her about her weekend trip, his eyes focused on the cricket results.

She tries not to cry. She lies with him, waiting until bedtime comes, when she can think clearly in the dark of the night.

Just as Tom has to dismantle the small world he’d created, so now must she with hers.

______________________

She couldn’t decide how best to go about this.

Did she tell Paul that she no longer wanted to marry him? She could hardly postpone it - that would just be stringing him along. But what reason would she give? He was a decent enough guy, after all. He hadn’t cheated on her, hadn’t treated her badly, she had no sound reason to give. And she could not tell him about Tom. It just seemed cruel.

And her mother…

As she brushed her teeth that morning, she pondered if taking the coward’s way out would be the easiest option - just run. Leave a note and run.

But no, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself with so many loose ends.

And so this week she would have to face the music.

She checked her reflection in the mirror.

_Like a lamb to the slaughter._

_______________________

Her mother had scolded her. Her father matter-of-factly began making cancellations. And dear Paul had been dumbfounded. Not bereft, as such, just shocked. The same night as breaking the news to him, she checked herself into a hotel, where she stayed for the rest of the week, before pegging it back to Dorset once the weekend arrived.

She had found a more resolved Tom, a Tom who wanted to return to London and build his life again.

And she had found a Tom who would hold her as she cried over the pain of ending a long-term relationship, along with facing disappointment from her mother. Even though she had chosen Tom, unquestionably, she still needed to mourn the ending of something that had taken up the last few years of her life. And Tom did not bat an eyelid as she sat sadly in his arms.

Drained and exhausted, he helped her under the covers of his bed and lay with her. She softly traced her fingers along his left cheek, grazing over his scars. Wordlessly, she leant in to kiss his skin there, over and over. He curled his arms around her in response. “I won’t let you go again.”

_____________________

_One month later…_

Captain sniffed and snuffled along the banks of the canal, as if looking for a lost toy. Emily was wary he might fall into the water, yet Tom seemed perfectly at ease as he sat beside her on the bench, his arm linked with hers..

His hair recently cut shorter exposed his face to the world, and Emily proudly gazed at him. In fact, she would sneakily look at him whenever she could. If he knew what she was doing, he would have thought her besotted.

Which she was.

Taking very few belongings, Tom (and Captain) had joined her in London. The smell of the underground, and the dense sounds of the city streets were becoming more reassuring as he adapted again to where he once lived. There were also plenty of parks and squares for Captain to amble about it, who had taken to the city rather well for an old dog.

Still a little self-conscious, Tom chose to wear RayBan’s in public, which Emily thought made him look like a rock star.

"What are you thinking about, handsome?" she whispers in his ear, and he nudges her shoulder with his, pressing the side of his body next to hers.

"About the noises you would make if I pushed my tongue inside of you."

Emily’s jaw drops. “Tom!” She bats him on the arm, and he grins devilishly at her.

She smiles, emotion welling inside of her.

Tom’s back.


End file.
